


til you bury them deep

by Nokomis



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Slash, werewolf lessons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-11
Updated: 2012-06-11
Packaged: 2017-11-07 12:02:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/430960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nokomis/pseuds/Nokomis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s Stiles’ moral responsibility to help Scott control his beast, so he goes to Derek for help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	til you bury them deep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lielabell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lielabell/gifts).



> Set after episode 2x02, will likely be jossed by 2x03, but such is the nature of television. Written for the lovely and encouraging Lielabell, who convinced me to watch this show. <3

So the thing is, Scott has no fucking clue about anything, and it’s Stiles’ responsibility to help him out. Well, _moral_ responsibility, at the very least, since Stiles is the one who would be left feeling guilty if Scott went on a murder spree and was shot down by werewolf hunters.

At least, Stiles assumes he’d feel guilty. It’s enough to keep him helping his buddy out, even though Scott keeps doing things that make Stiles grateful that Darwinism is a slow-moving process.

So it’s Stiles that goes out and tries to find whatever abandoned, sketchy location that Derek is calling home these days. 

“Did no one in your family believe in insurance?” was the first thing out of Stiles’ mouth when he finally finds Derek hanging out in yet another possibly condemned abandoned building like he’s competing to be the world’s best-looking vagrant. “Even if none of them went for life insurance, surely you could have gotten that monstrosity in the woods rebuilt.”

There is no way in hell that Derek will help him now. Stiles is clearly a genius.

“What do you want?” Derek growls. Well, he doesn’t _growl_ -growl, but it’s close enough to count in Stiles’ book. And he totally evades the question, so Stiles can only assume he was right.

“So, Scott,” Stiles starts out with, and Derek visibly sighs. “He sucks at being a werewolf.”

Derek doesn’t even bother to nod. Scott’s many failures are that obvious.

“But he could get better at it, right?”

“Where’s this going?” Derek says warily.

“I understand that you end up arrested or on the run and/or shot a lot every time you try to help him out, and I’m hesitant to even ask, but…” Stiles sighs. “He’s convinced that he’s got the werewolf thing under control.”

“It’s been two moons,” Derek says. Stiles is pretty sure he would be rolling his eyes if he could turn off the brood-face for long enough.

“Right?” Finally, someone understood what he was dealing with. “There’s not a chance in hell he’s as in control as he thinks. And normally I just let him go about his business, like when he thought he could skateboard and totally faceplanted into a railing, because it’s funny, but in this case, I’m pretty sure that someone’s going to end up with their face ripped off, which is… less funny.”

“I offered him a place in my pack,” Derek replies. Stiles notices he doesn’t refute the possible face-ripping that might happen.

“Without bothering to explain what that _means_ ,” Stiles explains. “I feel like this is obvious-stating, but Scott wasn’t born a werewolf. All this is brand new information. And I don’t know if you’ve met you, but you’re kind of… unforthcoming.”

“It’s instinctive,” Derek says. “Scott should just know.”

“Again,” Stiles says, “It’s _Scott_. Spelling things out is kind of a required activity.”

Derek sighs. “Does he even know you’re here?”

“Not so much,” Stiles admits. “I’m an awesome friend in that I will go behind my best buddy’s back to get him werewolf lessons.”

“So you… want me to give you werewolf lessons to pass on to Scott even though he won’t join my pack because…?” Derek actually raises an eyebrow. It’s almost _sassy_. Well, in Derek’s world. 

Luckily, Stiles had come prepared. He had an answer all ready. “Because thanks to Scott’s oh-so secret romance with the lovely Allison Argent, I will have insider info on what Grandpa Broadsword is up to. Also, you know. You could probably use some company. Since you’ve turned yourself into the world’s loneliest Boxcar Child.” He gestured grandly at their surroundings.

Stiles hadn’t actually planned on saying that last bit out loud, and he’s pretty sure that yet again his mouth is going to ruin things for him.

But Derek nods.

Which means… Stiles just arranged for himself to get werewolf lessons. Awesome.

*

“I don’t really know how to start,” Derek admits, drumming his fingers on the dash of Stiles’ jeep. Stiles had decided that hanging around what looked like a future supervillain lair with an alpha werewolf just wasn’t the sort of life decision he fancied himself making, so he’d suggested going out for burgers. That had the added bonus of involving food, so Stiles was pretty pleased with himself.

“No shit,” Stiles says. “No offense, dude, but you suck at people.”

Derek glowers. Stiles summons every bit of his manliness and manages to not squirm. Much.

Then, miraculously, Derek actually starts to talk instead of following up his glower with the usual burst of violence. “Packs are important. Being a part of one makes you more powerful. It gives me power, too.” He cuts a glance in Stiles’ direction.

“So that’s why you’re trying to talk him into it. For you to level up, I mean, since Scott doesn’t really need more power.” Stiles loves his best friend, he really does. He just worries.

“Not… entirely,” Derek admits. “Omegas don’t survive. It’s just… It’s easy for them to get picked off, without the protection a pack offers. It’s about more than numbers, it’s about learning how to use your senses and accepting who you are.”

“And you couldn’t just say that to Scott?” Stiles asks. 

“I’ve tried,” Derek says. “There are just… a lot of…” He actually waves a hand. “It’s hard to keep human around an uncontrolled wolf.”

“So wait, you’re actually Mr. Grumpypants around Scott because of wolfy reasons?” Stiles is surprised at how much sense that made. 

Derek looks like he would rather chew a paw off than agree to that statement. “Having him submit to me would help, yes.”

Stiles can’t help it. “Kinky.”

Derek’s glares really are becoming less effective. He’s building up an immunity. A very specific werewolf glare immunity. Stiles is awesome. 

“Have the Argents mentioned me?” Derek finally asks, after Stiles fails to drop dead under his death glare. 

“Allison says no,” Stiles says. “Her dad’s been keeping her out of the loop since her grandpa took over and declared war on all of the lunar-y challenged, but she’s been doing her best to eavesdrop. They’re suspicious about all the recent terrible violence that’s happened, but so far they haven’t been specifically mentioning you.”

Derek nods. They both know that the Argents are keeping a close eye on the Hale house, and that they know perfectly well that Derek is the sole surviving Hale and the probable alpha, but it doesn’t do any good to rehash that. Stiles can so be circumspect, no matter what every authority figure in his life had ever said.

And then they’re at the burger place, where Stiles orders a sackfull and pulls around to an empty parking lot to eat. 

Derek manages to inhale his burgers almost as fast as Stiles, which impresses Stiles as much as Derek’s scary faces. It’s a glory to behold. “Did that one take you _three bites_ to eat?” Stiles asks in awe.

Derek almost looks abashed. “Maybe.”

“Dude, teach me your ways,” Stiles says. “Seriously. Forget helping my friends with werewolf shit, just… enter me in your advanced burger eating class.”

“You’re a very special person,” Derek replies. He doesn’t shy away from the last burger, Stiles notices.

Stiles crumbles his leftover wrappers up and shoves them into the empty bag. There’s something else he wants to ask – something that Allison wants him to ask, that she brought up immediately when she was discussing this plan with him and offered up her insider line of info as collateral – and there’s no good way to ease into it. “What are you going to do about the hunters?”

“What do you mean?” Derek pretty much embodies _cagey_.

“You and your merry band of werewolves. What are you going to do to the hunters?”

Derek shrugs. “I’m not going to eat them, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I wasn’t worried about it until you said that,” Stiles says. “Seriously. Have you ever eaten somebody? Wait, don’t answer that. Answer the original question.”

Derek might actually be smiling, just a tiny bit. Stiles feels somewhat accomplished, since Derek isn’t the sort to turn his frowns upside down.

“I’m not going to kill anyone who doesn’t deserve it,” Derek offers. “Not even Allison’s father, tempting as that is.”

“You can understand why she’s concerned,” Stiles says, because Derek’s not an idiot and has to know why he’s asking. “Since her family is, you know, hunting you and your kind.”

“I’ll make no promises about that grandfather of hers,” Derek says. “Just to be clear.”

“Yeah, I heard about him chopping a dude in half,” Stiles replies. Then he can’t help himself. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a big softie? Because you’re awfully considerate about other people, even at the cost of, you know, your safety or freedom or whatever.”

He’s pretty sure he’s a second away from getting his head smashed into his steering wheel yet again, but the blow never comes. 

He chances a glance over at Derek. He’s staring thoughtfully out the window. “Scott’s obsession aside, she’s not a bad girl. And… losing family isn’t something anyone deserves.”

He clams up then, balling up a wrapper from their meal together in his hand and crinkling the paper like it’s a stress ball, and Stiles doesn’t pick at him. The wound from his own mother’s death is still raw; he knows exactly the kind of grief that Derek wears constantly like a shroud. He feels like an asshole for never really registering it before.

“No,” Stiles says. “It’s not.”

He hopes that Derek gets what he isn’t saying -- he doesn’t think that he could manage an apology without sounding like a bigger douche than he already was – and leaves it at that. 

Derek doesn’t say anything, just continues to look out the window. “I think we’re probably done for now.”

“Yeah,” Stiles agrees. “I’ll try to explain to Scott. You know. About things. And try to get him to… understand. About the pack. And everything.”

He hasn’t asked about the new wolves, or about whatever’s been happening to Lydia, but right now, it somehow seems more important to not ruin the moment. Derek’s… not delicate, exactly, but definitely still raw from everything that’s happened.

The drive back to Derek’s dump isn’t uncomfortable, exactly, but Stiles has to keep biting his lip to keep himself from bursting out with an inappropriate conversation starter. Derek, for his part, seems to appreciate Stiles’ superhuman effort to not ruin things, and when he drops him off, actually pats Stiles on the shoulder.

“I don’t think that Scott will kill anyone,” Derek reassures him. “He’s got a basic level of control. He’s more in danger of hurting someone.”

Stiles isn’t actually as reassured as he assumes Derek thinks he will be, but he smiles weakly because hey, the guy’s trying. For him werewolf maimings are probably a walk in the park, considering everything he’s been through.

Still, he’s got enough information that he thinks he can start convincing Scott to get actual help from Derek, instead of the disastrous half-lessons that the two of them have managed so far. And next time, he thinks he’ll take a pizza or two. Derek could use a friend who doesn’t have any urges to get into butt-sniffing contests or whatever it is that werewolves do under normal circumstances.

He could even bring Allison and Scott along. Make a double date of it.


End file.
